The Devil of the Stairs
by Girl in a White Dress
Summary: A teenager is found dead on the beach and evidence suggests the killer has religious motives. Calleigh finds herself growing closer to Horatio, while at the same time keeping a secret from him. XFiles crossover. COMPLETE.
1. one

Title: The Devil of the Stairs

Author: Melanie-Anne (melsie04hotmail.com)

Rating: R

Summary: A teenager is found dead on the beach and evidence suggests the killer has religious motives. Calleigh finds herself growing closer to Horatio, while at the same time keeping a secret from him. And to complicate things further, an FBI agent with unusual ideas involves herself in the case.

Disclaimer: Anything you recognize belongs to either Jerry or Chris, but definitely not me.

A/N: Response to the TS Eliot challenge. More notes at the end.

Timeline: We're in season 2 for CSI Miami. In my X-Files universe, The Truth never happened and Doggett and Reyes are still working on the X-Files.

WARNING: disturbing content ahead. Please read responsibly.

* * *

At the first turning of the second stair

I turned and saw below

The same shape twisted on the banister

Under the vapour in the fetid air

Struggling with the devil of the stairs

TS Eliot, "Ash Wednesday"

* * *

Friday, February 27

She's been here before, she thinks, but she can't remember where 'here' is. The floorboards creak under her weight as she moves through the house. The moon is full tonight, casting its light through the open windows. She hears the waves crash against the shore, smells the salt air, the humid air thick on and around her. And then she hears him.

"Mary . . ."

Confused (she knows she's not Mary) but not frightened, she heads for the staircase. It spirals upwards and she's overcome by a sudden dread: do not go up there!

"Mary, please," he says, and she knows she can't leave without knowing that he's okay. She begins to climb.

. . . and the stench is overwhelming and she tries not to breathe in but the air rushes into her lungs, burning, burning, burning . . .

Behind her: "Mary!"

She turns around slowly because now she is afraid and—

BEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEP—

Calleigh reached for the alarm clock, craving just five more minutes of sleep. The dream was almost forgotten, but for the slight sense of unease that Calleigh still felt. She sat up, stifling a yawn, and stretched. Her ginger kitten jumped onto her lap to greet her, nuzzling her neck, as he demanded to be fed.

The phone started to ring. Calleigh battled a yawn as she answered it. "'Lo?"

"Sorry to wake you, Cal." She smiled when she recognized Horatio's voice. She leaned back against her pillows and thought that her day couldn't possibly get any better than this.

She was right.

"I need you at a scene," Horatio continued. "It's, ahh, look, can you be ready in fifteen minutes? I'll pick you up."

"Sure." She was already at her closet, pulling out clothes. When Horatio hung up, she showered quickly, wondering just how bad it was for Horatio to sound that disturbed. She was pouring pellets into the cat's dish when Horatio knocked on the door.

Less than five minutes later they were on their way to South Beach. Calleigh studied Horatio while he drove; he looked tense this morning, she thought, and again wondered exactly what the crime scene held for them.

Adele was waiting; even she looked unsettled. As Calleigh and Horatio climbed out the car, he started to explain.

"Two days ago a British exchange student was reported missing by her host family. Judy Williams, sixteen years old. She was walking the family's dog. The dog went home, she didn't."

Alexx was already at the scene. She stood when Horatio and Calleigh approached. "Looks like she was strangled but I'll know more when I get her back to the lab."

She moved out of the way and Calleigh got her first look at the body. Judy Williams was naked and pale. She lay twisted on the ground, her dark hair damp and matted with blood and sand. She wore a crown of thorns on her head and her eyes were open, staring out beyond Calleigh. Staring at nothing.

"What do you make of that?" Calleigh pointed to the crown. Horatio shrugged.

"I don't know yet."

Adele hung up her cellphone and came to stand next to them. "The Brits want the body flown back ASAP. Looks like this is going to be a high-profile case. I hope to God we catch this nut."

Already, the media had got wind of the murder. A car pulled up and Sofia Moran got out. She was a news anchor for Channel Five, and one of the more reasonable members of the press. Horatio looked at her.

"Adele."

"I'll take care of them."

Calleigh set her case down and picked up her camera. She moved around the body, photographing from just about every angle. This was going to be along day, and it had barely begun.

* * *

Calleigh was in the break room, making coffee, when Alexx told her she looked tired.

"I haven't been sleeping well." Calleigh shrugged.

"Or maybe you're drinking too much coffee." Alexx smiled and held up her mug of herbal tea. Calleigh smiled; Alexx was always trying to get her to drink herbal tea.

"Is that your official diagnosis, doctor?" They laughed and Calleigh leaned over to smell Alexx's drink. "What is it today?"

"Blissful Berry."

Calleigh wrinkled her nose. "Smells like medicine."

"It's good for you."

She shook her head and sipped her coffee, giving an exaggerated sigh of contentment.

"Alexx? You done with the autopsy yet?" Horatio stood at the entrance, his posture giving away how tense he was. The British were understandably very upset about Judy Williams' death and there was a lot pressure to solve the case quickly. Calleigh didn't envy Horatio today; he had to deal with the flak from all sides.

Alexx waved a folder at him. "I was just on my way to see you. Bruising around the neck, blue lips and hemorrhages behind the eyelids suggest she was strangled. Now, here's the strange thing. The body was washed – there're no fibers, no hairs, no foreign skin cells. Just beach sand. Whoever did this doesn't want to get caught."

"What about the crown?"

"Put on post-mortem. He killed her, cleaned her, put the crown on and dumped her."

"How long ago did she die?"

"Around midnight, last night."

Calleigh shivered. "He kept her for two days."

Alexx handed the folder to Horatio and headed for the couches; she'd been standing all morning and her back was killing her.

"Calleigh, you get anything on the crown?" Horatio tilted his head as he waited for her answer.

"Speed's working on it."

Horatio nodded, his eyes distant. Calleigh impulsively held up her coffee cup. "You look like you could use some coffee."

"No, thank you."

Calleigh shrugged. As she moved past him, he laid his hand on her shoulder.

"I spoke to her host parents. She seemed like a nice kid." He sighed. "There are days when I wonder what this is all for, you know?"

"We'll catch him, Horatio. He's not as smart as he thinks." Except she was really not as certain as she sounded, but right now they had very little to go on. Horatio smiled – she could always make him smile – and took Calleigh's cup, his fingers lingering on hers a split-second longer than necessary. He sipped slowly, his eyes never leaving hers.

"I did offer to make you—"

"It tastes better in your mug." He passed it back then left. As Calleigh raised it to her lips, she grinned. She didn't notice that she was staring at the door like a schoolgirl with a crush until Alexx laughed.

* * *

Calleigh was tasked with delivering the news that there was nothing remarkable about the thorns. When she told Horatio, he nodded as if he were expecting just that. He didn't say anything so Calleigh slowly backed out.

"Are you okay?"

She looked up, surprised. "Yes. Fine."

"You look tired. Have you eaten?"

She shook her head.

"You want to get lunch? I need to get away from here for a while and—"

"Sure."

"Good."

They grinned at each other and Calleigh was suddenly glad that Alexx wasn't there to laugh at them.

On the way out, Sofia Moran jumped out of her car and headed for them. "Lieutenant Caine—"

"You know we can't comment on an ongoing investigation, Miss Moran." Horatio's hand was at Calleigh's elbow and he quickened their pace.

Sofia Moran lowered her eyelashes and smiled. "You don't know I was going to ask about a case."

Calleigh didn't like her tone and was comforted to feel Horatio's grasp tighten slightly.

"Miss Moran—"

"Sofia."

"Miss Moran, there is nothing you could possibly say to interest me. Now, if you don't mind, I have somewhere I need to be."

Calleigh couldn't help chuckling as Horatio opened the Hummer door for her. Sofia Moran was no longer smiling when they drove off.

End part one.


	2. two

Saturday, February 28

Calleigh always felt guilty about celebrating when they were in the middle of a case. But it was her birthday and the dinner had been planned for ages, and as Alexx said, "You only turn thirty once."

The dinner party was small; Speed and Eric were at Calleigh's bookshelf, paging through her gun magazines. When she walked past, she heard, "Obsessed," and laughed. Horatio and Gary sat on opposite couches, chatting about Bryan Woods' last baseball game. Alexx helped Calleigh clear the table and when she got to the untouched plate she said nothing. The phone rang; it was the call Calleigh had been expecting.

"Hi, Daddy."

Calleigh didn't hear the exact words spoken; all she knew was that her father had let her down again. She hung up and turned back to her friend, a forced smile in place.

"I think it's time for a refill." Alexx picked up the wine bottle.

Later, Calleigh found herself sitting next to Horatio, her legs tucked underneath her, her knees just touching his. The wine had left her with a pleasant buzz and right then she didn't mind that her daddy didn't come. She was not really following the conversation but it didn't matter; they were all a little drunk. Her cat jumped through the window and decided to make friends with everyone. He curled up on Horatio's lap. Calleigh didn't mind, except when Horatio removed his hand from her leg to pet the cat. (Wait, she thought, since when was Horatio's hand on her leg?)

"What's his name?"

"Harry."

Speed laughed. "You called your cat Harry?"

"He looks like a Harry."

Horatio nodded. "It's a proper name, and better than something like, I don't know, Sniffles."

"My sister had a cat when we were kids," Eric said. "She called it Dog. But hey, I've never said my sister was normal."

Everyone laughed, but Calleigh couldn't help wondering why Harry looked at her as if he knew something she didn't. Alexx and Gary stood; they had to get back to the kids. A little while later, Speed and Eric left too. After Calleigh walked them out, she returned to the couch and flopped down.

"Tired?" Horatio asked.

"Mm-hmm."

Somehow, she ended up sitting with her feet in his lap. They spoke about work, about Harry, about getting another year older, and it was too soon when Horatio smiled apologetically and said, "I'd better get going."

She walked him to the door and hugged him (she was the birthday girl, she thought, she was entitled). His arms were around her for a beat too long and she tried to gather the courage to ask him to stay. He ran his fingers through her hair, his eyes locked on hers and she was convinced he was about to kiss her.

But he let go and pulled an envelope out of his pocket. "Happy birthday, Cal." And then his lips brushed her cheek and he was gone.

She returned to the couch and opened the card. _Dear Calleigh, I find it difficult to put into words how valuable you are – to the team as well as in a personal capacity. I hope that one day you will realize just how much you mean to me. May your birthday be all that you hoped it would be and I pray that the coming year holds nothing but the best for you. Horatio._

The wine had made her maudlin and weepy and she read the card over and over until it was memorized. She wished she'd asked him to stay.

* * *

Tuesday, March 2

The moon is full tonight, casting its light through the open windows. She sees a figure in white. Startled, she steps back, her hand flying to her mouth, a scream dying in her throat. The figure steps back too, mimicking her actions exactly and she realizes it's her reflection. She approaches the mirror slowly. The nightgown is thin and sticks to her skin, moist with perspiration. She hears the waves crash against the shore, smells the salt air, the humid air thick on and around her. And then she hears him.

"Mary . . ."

Confused (she knows she's not Mary) but not frightened, she heads for the staircase. It spirals upwards and she's overcome by a sudden dread: do not go up there!

"Mary, please," he says, and she knows she can't leave without knowing that he's okay. She begins to climb.

. . . and the stench is overwhelming and she tries not to breathe in but the air rushes into her lungs, burning, burning, burning . . .

Behind her: "Mary!"

She turns around slowly because now she is afraid and . . . oh God!

* * *

Friday, March 5

Still frustrated at the lack of progress in the Williams' case, Horatio was not in a good mood when he and Calleigh arrived at the beach. A woman lay naked on her back, a gaping wound in her side. There was surprisingly little blood. Calleigh put her case down and immediately started taking photographs. She saw Horatio talking to a girl in a sweatsuit and strained to hear what was said.

"I was just running and I thought . . . you know sometimes people get drunk, pass out on the beach . . . I thought it was that, you know, but . . . but then I got closer and . . ." The girl pressed a hand to her mouth.

"What time was this?" Horatio stepped to his left to shield her from the body.

"Uh, around seven-thirty, I guess."

"Did you see anyone else on the beach?"

The girl shook her head. "Can I go? I really don't feel that great right now."

Horatio handed her his card. "If you remember anything else, I want you to call me or Detective Sevilla, okay?"

She nodded.

"Okay." Horatio called one of the uniformed officers over. "Could you see that Miss Wyatt gets home?"

He walked up behind Calleigh. "Two dead girls, naked on the beach, two weeks in a row. What are the odds?"

"You think it's the same guy?"

"I don't know. We'll know more after the autopsy."

Calleigh stood and dusted sand from her knees. "It's an awfully short cooling off period if he is a serial killer."

Horatio nodded and looked out at the ocean. His sunglasses hid his eyes from Calleigh's view and she wondered what he was thinking. She turned away and waved at Alexx.

"You can take her."

"Once again, the victim was strangled. And, again, the body was cleaned. Does she have a name yet?" Alexx paused, and looked up from the folder she was reading from.

Calleigh nodded. "Benita Tomas. She was a waitress at a club downtown; _Bar Blu_. Her boss reported her missing when she didn't show up for work on Tuesday."

"Time of death was between one and three this morning. The wound to her side – probably made by a speargun, I'm guessing – was inflicted post-mortem, which explains the lack of blood. Oh, and aside from the sand on the body, I did manage to find traces of soap between her toes."

Eric smiled. "His first mistake."

"His first mistake was killing," Horatio said.

Speed cleared his throat. "Yeah, well, the soap is sold in just about every convenience store in Miami, so no luck there."

Horatio leaned back in his chair and studied the weary faces of his team. "How are we on victimology?"

"No link between them so far," Speed said. "But I'm still looking."

"Okay. Thanks."

They started to leave Horatio's office.

"Calleigh, do you have a minute?"

She turned back to Horatio. "Sure."

"Does anything strike you as significant about the murders?"

"Yeah, now that you mention it. The crown of thorns and the spear to the side. It reminds me of the crucifixion of Christ."

"I had that same thought, but I wasn't sure if it was too much of a leap."

Calleigh shut the door then sat down across from Horatio. "That doesn't sound like you."

"I've been distracted lately. I haven't given work my full attention."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

He gave a thin smile. "Not right now."

"Well, when you do, you know where to find me." She stood. "I'd better get back to the lab. I promised Yelina I'd run comparisons for her."

She noticed the change in Horatio's expression when she mentioned Yelina and hoped that his distraction had nothing to do with her.

"See you later, Cal."

"Sure."

End part two.


	3. three

Saturday, March 6

She wakes up on a hard, wooden floor. Her body aches, and she can't remember why. She brushes her hair away from her face, combing her fingers through the knots. There is no one else in the room. She gets to her feet slowly and looks around. The moon is full tonight, casting its light through the open windows. She sees a figure in white. Startled, she steps back, her hand flying to her mouth, a scream dying in her throat. The figure steps back too, mimicking her actions exactly and she realizes it's her reflection. She approaches the mirror slowly. The nightgown is thin and sticks to her skin, moist with perspiration. She hears the waves crash against the shore, smells the salt air, the humid air thick on and around her. And then she hears him.

"Mary . . ."

The voice is strangely familiar, though not the one she expected to hear. It is not the smooth, honeyed voice of her dreams but right now, it is all she knows.

Confused (she knows she's not Mary) but not frightened, she heads for the staircase. It spirals upwards and she's overcome by a sudden dread: do not go up there!

"Mary, please," he says, and she knows she can't leave without knowing that he's okay. She begins to climb.

. . . and the stench is overwhelming and she tries not to breathe in but the air rushes into her lungs, burning, burning, burning . . .

Behind her: "Mary!"

She turns around slowly because now she is afraid and . . . oh God! He's standing there smiling at her and at his feet are Judy and Benita and they're dead!

"Mary," he says, stepping closer. There's something in his hands, something dripping onto the floor. The coppery scent fills her nose and she gags.

"Look, Mary. For you." He extends his hands and she sees the head, its eyes looking at her, pleading with her, condemning her.

* * *

Monday, March 8

Calleigh stifled a yawn before sipping her coffee. She and Alexx sat in the break room; Alexx with a new flavor tea she had wanted Calleigh to try.

"Calmly Chamomile," Calleigh read and smiled. "Thanks, but I need the caffeine to keep me awake."

"Rough weekend?"

"I wish. I'm still having trouble sleeping. I can't believe I'm saying this but I think I need a break."

"So take one."

"After the Williams/Tomas case is solved, maybe."

"Sure. Wait until you're completely burned out. Then take a vacation."

"Horatio needs us all on this case."

Alexx laughed. "I knew it."

"Knew what?"

Alexx leaned in and lowered her voice. "You don't want to take leave because you can't bear the thought of not seeing a certain Lieutenant."

"That's not true."

Alexx arched a delicate eyebrow. "So ask for leave. I dare you."

"What are you two ladies conspiring about today?" Horatio asked from behind them.

Calleigh flushed. "Nothing. I, umm, I have to go. Alexx, not a word." She grabbed her coffee cup and hurried out.

"What was that about?" Horatio asked.

Alexx smiled. "Just girl talk. Do you want some tea?"

* * *

Friday, March 12

Calleigh was not at all surprised when someone called in a body on the beach. The surprise came when she arrived on the scene and found that the man had been beheaded. She stopped in her tracks, remembering the turn her dream had taken, and suddenly felt ill.

"Calleigh?"

Horatio's hand on her shoulder drew her back to the present.

"I'm fine," she said automatically. Then, "It's a man."

"Yes."

"Maybe it's not related."

"I thought so at first, but then I realized the significance of the head."

She gave him a blank look. "Sunday school was a long time ago, Horatio."

"John the Baptist was beheaded. Salome danced for Herod and brought him the head on a plate. John was Jesus' cousin."

Calleigh licked her lips and glanced at the body. "So it's definitely religious?"

"It is the Lenten season."

"What did you give up?" Alexx asked, catching the end of the conversation as she joined them. "I did the three C's: chocolate, cake and caffeine."

Horatio gave a wry smile and shook his head slightly.

"You know, I met someone at a medical conference a couple of years ago. An FBI agent. She worked for a division that specialized in, uh, unusual cases." Alexx switched from casual to professional in a heartbeat.

"Do you have a name?"

Alexx nodded. "Sure. Dana Scully. Want me to give her a call?"

* * *

Monday, March 15

"It's the same as the others," Alexx said. "Jonathan Lazarus was strangled then his head was chopped off. I found the same traces of soap that were on Benita Tomas' body."

"And I've still got nothing to tie any of the victims together," Speed said.

"Excuse me." There was a knock at Horatio's office door and a tall brunette entered. "Lieutenant Caine? I'm Special Agent Monica Reyes."

Calleigh smiled in recognition; she had briefly known Monica in New Orleans, years ago. She'd been a rookie officer investigating a ritualistic killing and Monica Reyes was the FBI agent called in to help.

"We were expecting Agent Scully," Horatio said.

"She's retired from the X-Files. But when she told me about your call, I thought I'd come down."

"What exactly are the X-Files?"

"Cases that can't be explained through any normal investigative means. Cases involving the paranormal, the—"

Eric chuckled. "You mean, like aliens and UFO's?"

Monica didn't miss a beat. "And monsters, bogeymen, demons. You name it."

"There's nothing paranormal about this case," Horatio said, a trace of skepticism in his voice. Calleigh wondered if he was regretting his decision to call the FBI.

Monica smiled. "Probably not. But I have a Masters degree in folklore and mythology, and before I joined the X-Files I worked on ritual murders and cases involving the occult."

Horatio stared at her for a moment, his expression giving nothing away. Then he smiled. "Welcome to the team, Agent Reyes. That's Alexx Woods, our ME. Tim Speedle. Eric Delko. Calleigh Duquesne."

They smiled as Horatio introduced them. Monica's gaze settled on Calleigh.

"We've met, haven't we?"

Calleigh nodded. "The Ryker case."

"Yes, of course. It's good to see you again."

"Have a seat, Agent Reyes," Horatio said. "Alexx was just telling us about the latest victim."

End part three.


	4. four

Thursday, March 18

She wakes up on a hard, wooden floor. Her body aches, and she can't remember why. She brushes her hair away from her face, combing her fingers through the knots. There is no one else in the room. She gets to her feet slowly and looks around. The moon is full tonight, casting its light through the open windows. She sees a figure in white. Startled, she steps back, her hand flying to her mouth, a scream dying in her throat. The figure steps back too, mimicking her actions exactly and she realizes it's her reflection. She approaches the mirror slowly. The nightgown is thin and sticks to her skin, moist with perspiration. She hears the waves crash against the shore, smells the salt air, the humid air thick on and around her. And then she hears him.

"Mary . . ."

The voice is strangely familiar, though not the one she expected to hear. It is not the smooth, honeyed voice of her dreams but right now, it is all she knows.

Confused (she knows she's not Mary) but not frightened, she heads for the staircase. It spirals upwards and she's overcome by a sudden dread: do not go up there!

There's a hand on her arm. It's Monica. Her dark eyes are wide and afraid. Her mouth moves but there is no sound. She shakes her head: do not go up there!

"Mary, please," he says, and she knows she can't leave without knowing that he's okay. She begins to climb.

. . . and the stench is overwhelming and she tries not to breathe in but the air rushes into her lungs, burning, burning, burning . . .

Behind her: "Mary!"

She turns around slowly because now she is afraid and . . . oh God! He's standing there smiling at her and at his feet are Judy and Benita and they're dead!

"Mary," he says, stepping closer. There's something in his hands, something dripping onto the floor. The coppery scent fills her nose and she gags.

"Look, Mary. For you." He extends his hands and she sees the head, its eyes looking at her, pleading with her, condemning her.

* * *

Friday, March 19

Monica had a feeling there would be another body today and she was not happy to be proven right. The CSIs were already on the scene when she arrived at the beach. Calleigh was on her haunches a few feet away from the body, taking photographs of something. She was unusually pale. When Monica got closer, she saw that the object on the ground was an ear.

"Simon Peter cut off the ear of a soldier."

Calleigh didn't smile when she looked up. "Couldn't this guy have read, I don't know, happier Bible stories?"

Horatio walked over to greet Monica. "Any thoughts?"

"They've all happened on Fridays, right?"

"Yes."

"Mmm. The first was the Friday after Ash Wednesday and every Friday since. Maybe he's Catholic."

Calleigh stood. "How do you figure that?"

"You're not Catholic, are you?"

"Nope, Baptist."

Monica smiled. "Right. To Catholics, Fridays in Lent are special days of penance. If I'm right, this won't stop until Lent ends."

"How much longer is that?"

"Three weeks." Monica turned to look at the body and froze. It turned to ashes as she watched. She blinked, and it was normal again. Calleigh touched her arm.

"Mon, you okay?"

Monica nodded. "Yeah, fine."

But she couldn't get the image out of her mind and thought of another time that she had seen a body turn to ashes. She had the sudden urge to call John.

Calleigh set Horatio's coffee on his desk and sat down. "Alexx says it's the same as the others. No soap, but he was strangled before his ear was chopped off. We don't have an ID yet."

Horatio sighed. "I just got off the phone with Commissioner Elliot. He wasn't thrilled with what I had to tell him. The Brits are also eager for a resolution."

Calleigh smiled in sympathy. "I take it they didn't like Monica's theory?"

"You could say that."

"What about you?"

He shrugged. "I like Monica. I didn't at first. When she told us about the X-Files, I thought she was here to prove this case was, you know, paranormal. I'm still not sure where I stand on that kind of thing, but . . . I think her theory's sound. It makes sense."

"Do you think we'll catch this guy before he kills again."

Horatio was silent for a long time, then he sighed. "I hope so, Cal."

* * *

Saturday, March 20

Calleigh wasn't sure how Eric and Speed had managed to talk her and Monica into going out with them. The four of them were at _Enigma_, a club the boys liked to frequent. They found a table in a darkened corner and Calleigh hung her jacket over her chair.

"You know, I can't remember the last time I went out, especially in the middle of a case," Monica said.

"That's 'cause no one in Washington knows how to have fun." Speed managed to attract the attention of a waitress and called her over. "First round's on me, guys."

When she left with the order, Monica leaned her elbows on the table and stared out at the dance floor. "People in Washington have fun. Sometimes." She laughed. "I think I'm a little old for the whole clubbing scene anyway."

Eric eyed her appreciatively. "But you can't be more than thirty."

Monica laughed again. "Thanks, Eric. I'm flattered. But you're way off."

"Why? How old are you?"

She shook her head. "You're not supposed to ask a woman's age."

Speed lightly tapped the back of his head. "You'd think, with all your sisters, you'd know something like that?"

Eric shrugged, unapologetic. "So what do you do for fun in DC?"

"Well, I'm a workaholic, I'm afraid, so I practically live at the office."

"When you're not chasing flying saucers around the country," Speed said.

"You know, you'd get along well with my partner. He's not a believer either. Despite what he's seen."

"You're kidding, right? There are no such things as UFO's. Right?"

Monica simply smiled.

"Tell us about your partner," Calleigh prompted. She hid a grin when she saw the slight flush in Monica's cheeks.

"I've known John for years. He was a cop in New York before he joined the Bureau. I worked on his son's case—"

"He's _that_ cop?" Calleigh asked, wide-eyed. Monica had told her about Luke when they'd first met. If Calleigh's memory served correctly, John was one of the reasons she had transferred down to New Orleans.

"One and the same." Monica stood. "Where do you suppose our waitress has got to?"

She disappeared in the direction of the bar. Eric grinned at Speed.

"Man, she's hot."

Calleigh laughed. "And way out of your league."

"Hey, a guy can dream, can't he?"

"Besides," Speed added, "you're unavailable . . ."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Eric winked. "So how's Horatio?"

Calleigh looked away, a blush coloring her fair skin. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

* * *

Tuesday, March 23

Horatio arrived at work early with the intention of sifting through all the evidence in what the media had dubbed "The Friday Murders". The last thing he expected to find was Calleigh asleep on one of the couches in the break room. He gently shook her shoulder to wake her.

"Cal?"

"Mmm . . . five more minutes . . ."

Horatio smiled and remembered how his mother had used to wake him up. The opportunity was too good to waste; he tickled her.

Calleigh jumped up. "Wha . . . oh, Horatio. Umm."

He folded his arms across her chest. "I assume there's a reason you spent the night here?"

"I . . . Well . . . I've had trouble sleeping the past couple of weeks so I thought I'd work late last night, you know, maybe find something we might have missed the first time around and then I came up here for coffee and I was only going to sit down for five minutes . . ."

"Cal, you're rambling."

"Right. Sorry. Anyway, I did mean to go home."

"What do you mean by 'trouble sleeping'?"

Calleigh sighed. "I've been having the strangest dreams. This case is disturbing and I . . . I don't know. I'll be fine."

"You should take the day off."

"I'm fine."

"I'm only asking because I want you to stay fine."

Calleigh couldn't argue with that. Impulsively, she reached up and kissed his cheek. "Half a day. I'll be back after lunch."

Sofia Moran stood on the beach, the ocean behind her. She faced the camera, her smile at odds with what she was saying.

"Four people have already fallen victim to the serial killer currently terrorizing Miami. An innocent exchange student, a waitress, a teacher and a truck driver. How many people have to die at the hands of this madman and who will be next? Though the FBI has joined the investigation, the police are no closer to solving these murders than when they began—"

Horatio switched the television off. This was the last thing they needed. He reached for his Rolodex and flipped through until he found a number for Sofia Moran.

End part four.


	5. five

Thursday, March 25

Calleigh wasn't sure what possessed her to change the route of her morning jog. She found herself drawn to the beach, to the scene of the most recent murder. She slowed her pace, eventually coming to a complete stop. It was early and there was no one else around. Calleigh glanced down at the sand.

Judy Williams lay on the ground, staring at Calleigh. Then she slowly turned to ashes. Calleigh stepped backwards, a scream dying in her throat. She blinked and the body was gone.

"Mary . . ." The voice danced on the breeze, calling to her. Calleigh shivered in the cool air.

A dog barked somewhere in the distance and the moment passed. Calleigh turned and ran back the way she had come, but the image of the ashes refused to leave her mind.

"Thank you for agreeing to meet with me, Lieutenant Caine. Can I call you Horatio?" Sofia Moran crossed her legs and leaned across the table, affording Horatio a glimpse of her cleavage. He picked up the menu and studied it instead.

"Whatever you're more comfortable with, Miss Moran."

"Please, call me Sofia."

"I saw your report on Channel Five the other day."

She smiled. "I was hoping you would."

"I didn't like it."

Her smile faltered a fraction. "Oh?"

"In an investigation like this, we can't afford to have the public lose faith in the police."

"The public has lost faith in the police department. Four people are dead. There's a serial killer running around Miami and it's obvious to anyone that the police are chasing their tails."

"It doesn't help when there are reporters such as yourself who encourage that lack of faith."

Sofia Moran covered Horatio's hand with hers. "I have complete faith in you, Horatio. Tell you what; you scratch my back, I'll scratch yours. I'll watch what I say on camera if you promise to give me an exclusive after you catch this guy. I'll make you a hero, Horatio."

He pulled his hand away and said, coldly, "I'm not interested in being a hero, Miss Moran."

A waiter arrived to take their order. Before he could speak, Horatio stood.

"Thank you for your time."

* * *

Friday, March 26

As predicted, Friday morning brought with it another body. Speed and Eric were out on another case so it was just Monica and Calleigh waiting for the autopsy report in Horatio's office. Alexx entered, her expression grim, and dropped the folder on the desk.

"Michael Jameson, thirty-four years old. Cause of death: exsanguination. His back was literally shredded. I'd say he was whipped to death."

"So it's not our guy?" Calleigh asked.

"Jesus was whipped." Monica opened the folder and grimaced as she took in the photographs.

"Why would he change his MO now?"

Monica shrugged. "I'm going back up to DC for a while. I have a friend who used to profile. While I'm up there, I'll get his opinion on this case."

"What's wrong with the profile we have?"

"Nothing, it's just . . . Mulder sees things other people tend to overlook. I'll be back on Thursday."

Horatio nodded and massaged his temples. "If you think it can help . . ."

"Yes, Mr. Mayor, I understand your concern. I assure you, we're doing all we can to find this killer."

Horatio let the mayor rant for a few more minutes, then excused himself and hung up. When he opened his eyes, he saw Calleigh leaning against the doorjamb.

"You look tense."

Any other day he would have made a joke about her observation skills, but not today. He beckoned for her to enter. "We've had tough cases before but none that scare me like this guy does. I'm almost ready to ask Monica for a paranormal explanation."

Calleigh went around the desk and began massaging his shoulders. "The religious freaks are always the worst."

"I know we're doing all we can but I've got a horrible feeling we're not going to get him."

"Of course we will."

Horatio closed his eyes and decided that, for a little while, he wasn't going to think about the case. As if he could, with Calleigh touching him. He leaned back in his chair and sighed.

* * *

Wednesday, March 31

It was strange to be back in Washington, Monica thought. She stepped off the elevator and headed to the basement office she shared with John. At the door, she paused, watching him sift through a pile of paper.

"Hey," she said.

"Hey, yourself. How'd things go with Mulder?"

She held up a folder. "Pretty well. He says hi. Dana sends her love, and William asked me to give you this." She pulled a piece of paper from the folder and handed it to John.

He chuckled. "William the artist. Who would have thought?"

"So what excitement have I missed out on these past few weeks?"

John shrugged. "Not much. Agent Harrison's been assisting me."

Monica's eyes widened. "I'm surprised you're still alive to talk about it."

"Monica . . ."

She laughed. "Sorry, couldn't resist. You know what she's like. When she brings a case to our attention one of us usually gets injured."

"Yeah . . . When's your flight?"

"Five."

"You need a lift to the airport?"

"I wouldn't dream of tearing you away from your paperwork."

"Oh, I think I could sacrifice it, just this once."

* * *

Thursday, April 1

The moon is full tonight, casting its light through the open windows. She sees a figure in white. Startled, she steps back, her hand flying to her mouth, a scream dying in her throat. The figure steps back too, mimicking her actions exactly and she realizes it's her reflection. She approaches the mirror slowly. The nightgown is thin and sticks to her skin, moist with perspiration. She hears the waves crash against the shore, smells the salt air, the humid air thick on and around her. And then she hears him.

"Mary . . ."

The voice is strangely familiar, though not the one she expected to hear. It is not the smooth, honeyed voice of her dreams but right now, it is all she knows.

Confused (she knows she's not Mary) but not frightened, she heads for the staircase. It spirals upwards and she's overcome by a sudden dread: do not go up there!

There's a hand on her arm. It's Monica. Her dark eyes are wide and afraid. Her mouth moves but there is no sound. She shakes her head: do not go up there!

"Mary, please," he says, and she knows she can't leave without knowing that he's okay. She begins to climb.

. . . and the stench is overwhelming and she tries not to breathe in but the air rushes into her lungs, burning, burning, burning . . .

Behind her: "Mary!"

She turns around slowly because now she is afraid and . . . oh God! He's standing there smiling at her and at his feet are Judy and Benita and they're dead!

"Mary," he says, stepping closer. There's something in his hands, something dripping onto the floor. The coppery scent fills her nose and she gags.

She steps back, trying to get away from him, and trips, falling to the floor. It's Monica, and her eyes are closed and she's covered in blood.

There's a noise from the staircase. She scrambles to her feet, wiping bloody hands on her dress, and turns to look. Horatio struggles with a dark shape. She can't see what it is but she knows it will kill him. She wants to step forward but she can't move, can't speak, can't do anything except watch. The shape snaps Horatio's neck and he falls to the floor, suddenly, horribly, still.

The shape moves towards her, holding out twisted arms.

"Mary."

Calleigh sat bolt upright in her bed, her heart pounding. The night was warm but she was cold. She slipped out of bed and made it to the bathroom in time to throw up. Afterwards, she sat on the floor with her back against the bathtub, and cried.

End part five.


	6. six

Friday, April 2

Monica smiled at the assembled team. The only person absent was Alexx, currently in the autopsy bay. "The killer is most likely a white male between the ages of twenty-five and forty. He is either Catholic or he comes from a home where religion was strongly enforced. He is of average to high intelligence and socially competent. He probably follows the news on the case." She paused, something niggling at the back of her mind. She shook her head; the thought was gone.

"Kidnapping the victims well before he kills them suggests that he interacts with them for a period of time. He is an organized killer; the attacks are obviously planned, the victims are selected strangers, the scene reflects control, the weapon is absent and the body is transported from the site of the kill. His mood will be controlled during the murder as he plays out his fantasy."

She frowned, trying to capture her earlier thought. An image of Luke. What did he have to do with this? she wondered.

"The torture and mutilation of the bodies suggest that he craves some kind of control but, if caught, will deny responsibility for his actions. He is a visionary killer; he believes he is called by God to murder or, perhaps, he thinks he is God. He will not stop unless he is caught. He may have had some kind of religious education, perhaps in a seminary—"

Monica stopped, remembering her vision of the body turning to ashes. She let the report fall from her fingers and frowned.

"Monica? What is it?" Calleigh asked.

Monica gave her a strange look. "You saw it too."

"Saw what?"

"Ashes."

Calleigh's breath caught in her throat.

Alexx knocked on the door. "Sorry I'm late. I just wrapped up the autopsy on this morning's victim."

Horatio gestured for her to take a seat.

"Maria Duarte. Cause of death was mass hemorrhaging. I've never seen anything like it. It seems like she was stoned . . ."

"Stoned?" Monica looked up sharply. "Maria . . . Mary. An adulteress' death . . . Mary Magdalene?"

"Monica? What are you thinking?"

"Judy Williams – Judas Iscariot. He betrayed Jesus and Jesus had to wear the crown of thorns. Benita Tomas – Doubting Thomas. He wouldn't believe until he touched the wound in Jesus' side. Jonathan Lazarus – John the Baptist was beheaded. Peter Manning – Peter cut the ear off the soldier. Michael Jameson – James. Jesus was whipped before he was crucified. Mary Magdalene was a prostitute." Monica shook her head. "Why didn't we see it before? That's how he chose them."

Everyone fell silent.

"There's one week left of Lent. Good Friday. I think he's going to crucify his next victim."

"It's Holy Week next week. What if changes his MO and strikes on Palm Sunday?" Eric asked.

"He didn't kill on Ash Wednesday."

Horatio stood. "I don't want the press getting wind of this. You see someone with a camera or a Dictaphone, you run in the opposite direction. If this gets out . . ."

Everyone nodded. Calleigh wanted to ask Monica about her earlier comment, but she was afraid of the answer.

* * *

Sunday, April 4

Calleigh walked into the break room and found Monica sitting on a couch, drinking some of Alexx's herbal tea. Calleigh smiled.

"So what did you end up trying?"

"The chamomile. You want some?"

"Don't you start as well!"

The women laughed, then Monica's cellphone rang. "John, thanks for calling back . . . No, nothing's wrong. I just wanted to say happy birthday . . ."

Calleigh left Monica and headed upstairs. With the stress of the case, she'd almost forgotten . . .

She knocked on Horatio's door unsurprised to find him there. He smiled.

"Calleigh. Come in."

"I was just thinking, it's someone's birthday soon."

"Not that there's much reason to celebrate these days."

Calleigh shrugged. "I know. Still, I feel like doing something for you. Let me take you to dinner."

"Cal, you don't have to—"

"I want to. You've been so preoccupied lately, and you're always telling me to relax. Come on, it's either dinner with me or a not-so-surprise party with absolutely everyone you know."

Horatio thought for a moment, then nodded. When he spoke, there was a hint of mischief in his tone. "Okay. It's a date."

* * *

Monday, April 5

"Monica, can I talk to you?" Calleigh shifted her weight from foot to foot, nervous for a reason she couldn't explain.

"Sure. Is everything okay?"

"Umm, I don't know." Calleigh glanced around to make sure they were alone. "How did you know about the ashes?"

"I don't know. Sometimes I just get these feelings . . . they're usually right. Disturbing, but right. Tell me what happened?"

"I was jogging on the beach and I looked down for a second and . . . Judy Williams' body was there . . . and she turned to ashes right in front of me. And I know the body wasn't _really_ there but I saw it." Calleigh shrugged, embarrassed that she mentioned it.

"It was Peter Manning for me," Monica said, and Calleigh immediately felt less stupid. "At the scene. It's happened a couple of times before. I don't know why. None of the cases are related, as far as I can tell. Unless . . ."

"Unless what?"

Monica shook her head. "Never mind."

"Monica."

Monica stepped closer to Calleigh, her voice low and urgent. "Do you believe in demons?"

"Umm, I guess so. I don't know. I'm not all that spiritual."

Monica closed her eyes and in that moment she looked incredibly sad. "I have a very bad feeling about this case."

Calleigh was silent, then, "I've been having strange dreams. I never thought they meant anything but . . . there's this shape in it and I'm not sure what the shape wants . . . I think it's me but I don't know . . . you were there. Horatio too. It killed both of you. I don't know why I'm telling you this. I just . . . I don't know."

"Describe the shape."

Calleigh closed her eyes. "I don't know. It's very vague. More a feeling than anything else."

When she opened her eyes again, she regretted having said anything. Monica looked terrified.

"Mon?"

"I have to go look something up." She started to leave, then turned back. "Calleigh, be careful."

* * *

Tuesday, April 6

"Calleigh!"

She stopped at the glass doors leading outside and smiled. Then she turned, one hand on her hip. "Yes, Horatio?"

He waited until he was at her side before he spoke again. "Let me walk you out."

"Alright."

As they made their way down the steps, she felt Horatio's hand at the small of her back.

"I'm looking forward to tomorrow night."

She smiled. "Glad to hear that."

They reached her car and he paused, uncharacteristically nervous. "There's something I'd like to talk to you about then, if that's okay."

Calleigh touched her palm to Horatio's cheek and nodded. Her smile had softened considerably. He lowered his head to hers. She arched her neck, her lips parted in expectation.

Someone honked in the street. The spell was broken. Calleigh dropped her hand and focused her eyes on Horatio's shirt.

"Until tomorrow, then," she said.

"'Til tomorrow. Sweet dreams, Cal."

* * *

Wednesday, April 7

Calleigh scanned her CD collection for music to get her in the mood for dinner with Horatio. Her date with Horatio, she thought happily, and not just any CD would do. She moved on to her collection of movie soundtracks, and found what she was looking for: 'A Walk to Remember'. She put it in her hi-fi and returned to the bedroom.

"I'm learning to breathe," she sang along, "I'm learning to crawl. I'm finding that you and you alone can break my fall. I'm living again, awake and alive . . ."

She held up a black dress and tilted her head in consideration; Horatio had said she looked good in black . . .

Calleigh let the dress fall to the floor, her attention caught by what was in the mirror. Herself. In ashes. In that split-second she knew something was wrong. She pulled on a bathrobe and picked up her gun. She took a deep breath and stepped into the living room.

It was unnaturally cold. And all of a sudden he was there, in front of her, a look of pure anger on his face. Calleigh raised her gun.

"Don't come any closer."

"I was wrong. You're not the right Mary. You're Mary Magdalene. You're his whore."

"Stay right where you are!"

He smiled and raised his arm. Calleigh fired. The bullet struck him in the chest. He laughed and moved forward. Calleigh fired again and again and again until her clip was empty. She blinked and he was gone. Then he grabbed her and pressed a cloth to her mouth. She tried to fight but the chloroform took effect quickly.

As she drifted into darkness, she saw the shape from her dreams hovering at the edge of her vision, and then she knew nothing.

* * *

Calleigh's phone rang and rang and rang and then, "Hi, this is Calleigh. I can't come to the phone right now. Please leave a message and I'll call you back."

"Cal, it's Horatio. Are you there? . . . Please, pick up if you're there . . . You're not answering your cellphone and I'm worried . . . Uh, just call me when you get this, okay?"

Later, "Me again. Uh, look, please just call me. I'm getting worried."

Later still, "Calleigh? Look, I'm coming over."

* * *

Calleigh's door was wide open when Horatio arrived. He could smell the gunpowder and immediately drew his weapon. He saw Calleigh's gun lying on the living room carpet, saw the shells, felt his heart drop. He moved into the bedroom and froze. Calleigh stood in front of the mirror, holding up a black dress. He watched her turn to ashes then disappear completely.

Monica was the first person he called.

"It isn't him," Horatio said. "Calleigh's not Catholic, her name isn't biblical. It isn't him."

It couldn't be him, Horatio thought. If their killer had Calleigh . . .

"Her middle name's Marie," Alexx said.

Monica was uncomfortable in Calleigh's apartment. She looked around, constantly alert. If Horatio weren't so worried, he'd find it amusing.

"Mary . . . Calleigh said she was having strange dreams." Monica sank to her haunches and picked up one of the shells. "If she fired her gun, what was she shooting at?"

"She's an excellent shot. If she was aiming for someone, she would have hit him."

"But there's no blood." Monica rose and shivered. "I was wrong. This is an X-File."

"You're saying that whoever has her isn't human?" Horatio couldn't believe it. Wouldn't believe it.

"No. He's human. I think he's . . . possessed. It would explain the shape from her dream, the ashes . . ." Monica crossed to the wall and ran a gloved hand over the bullet holes. "She shot at what she saw, but what she saw wasn't necessarily where she saw it."

"What are you talking about?"

"Astral projection. You've heard of it, I'm sure. The—"

Horatio shook his head in disbelief. "Please explain the ashes."

"Both Calleigh and I saw bodies turn to ashes. I've seen it before too, a couple of years ago."

Horatio sat; his knees strangely weak. "I saw her in the bedroom earlier. It was just my imagination. It had to be my imagination."

Alexx drew Monica to one side. "Do you still think he plans to crucify her?"

Monica nodded.

"Then we have less than thirty-six hours to find her."

End part six.


	7. seven

Thursday, April 8

Horatio sat in his office, numb. The team had been working around the clock to find Calleigh but so far they had nothing. The last time he'd been downstairs, Speed had been sitting in front of the computer while AFIS ran through fingerprints from Calleigh's apartment. Eric was searching the Internet for any cults or sects that had even the remotest connection to Lent.

Horatio still struggled to accept Monica's theory that the killer was possessed. In his experience, some people were just evil. Demons and astral projection were the stuff of science fiction. Still, Horatio thought, science fiction or not, Calleigh was running out of time.

He opened his top drawer and took out a mother-of-pearl rosary. It had once belonged to his mom and he'd kept it in his office since Raymond's death. That night, he'd collapsed on the floor, the rosary in his fingers as he'd prayed to Mary, to his own mother, to anyone who'd been listening. Calleigh had found him like that. She'd held his hand and stroked his face just like his mom had done when he was a boy. It struck him now that he'd never thanked her for being there for him and he hoped he would still be able to.

He stood and slipped the rosary in his pocket; sitting around wasn't going to get her back. He needed to be out and doing something. Maybe Speed had got lucky or maybe Eric had found something useful. As he headed to the labs, he fingered the rosary beads and silently said a Hail Mary, habits from childhood not forgotten.

* * *

The door was unlocked, Calleigh discovered to her surprise. She glanced around the room for a weapon. There was just enough light to make out long shapes on the dresser. Calleigh held her breath and crossed the room in quick, decisive steps. The floor creaked beneath her feet but she didn't care. The shapes were statuettes of a woman. As her eyes adjusted to the light, Calleigh recognized them as icons of the Virgin Mary. She picked one up, testing its weight. Yes, she thought, it was heavy enough to inflict some serious damage. Or, at least, knock someone out.

She left the room, her only goal to escape. She caught sight of her reflection in the mirrors as she tiptoed down the stairs. She wore the long white dress from her dreams. Dropping the statuette, she ran the rest of the way down.

The front door was locked. Calleigh saw a telephone and hope flickered in her heart. She lifted the receiver and dialed 911.

"911. What's your emergency?" The operator sounded bored.

She spoke quickly and softly, afraid that her captor would hear her. "This is Detective Calleigh Duquesne with the Miami crime lab. I've been kidnapped. I'm in a house somewhere, I don't know. Near the beach, I think. I can hear the ocean." She looked around for anything else that would give away her location.

"Alright, I'm tracing your call right now," said the operator, sounding less bored. "If you can, get out of the house."

Calleigh set the receiver on the table, leaving the line open. She could see candles flickering. The dining room table was set for thirteen. Despite herself, Calleigh entered the room. There was a portrait on the wall of the Madonna and child. As she got closer, Calleigh could see that it was her own face. She stepped backwards, bumping into the table.

"Mary."

She whirled around. Her captor's large frame filled the doorway.

"I'm not Mary." Her voice wavered and she was glad the table was between them.

His expression darkened. "No, you're not."

Calleigh shivered, suddenly cold. He crossed the room and ripped the painting from the wall, breaking the frame as if it were made from matchsticks.

"Eat," he said.

Calleigh turned her head to the table. There was a plate of bread rolls and a jug of dark liquid. Calleigh's first thought was that it was blood, but then she recognized the smell as wine. She realized immediately the significance of the meal: the Last Supper. Her Last Supper.

Help was on the way, she thought. Stall him.

"What do you want with me?"

He smiled.

"Who are you?"

He grabbed her arms and dragged her out into the hallway. When she saw the receiver sitting back in its cradle, she knew she was lost. She began fighting but his grip was too strong. Holding both her wrists in one hand, he opened a door with the other and pulled her down into the basement. She hit her head on a step and blacked out.

When Calleigh came to, she was lying on something hard.

"I did it all for you and you betrayed me," he was saying. "I should have known you were a slut. You're just a whore."

She tried to sit but there was rope around her middle.

"I saw you with him. You were going to kiss him, weren't you?"

"I'm not sure what you're talking about." He was somewhere to her left but it was too dark to see where. The candles cast dark shadows on the walls but in the corner, a shape stayed motionless. Calleigh knew it was the shape from her dream, knew that somehow it was controlling the man who had her. She was not about to let it kill her too. "Please, there's been some kind of mistake—"

His mouth was at her ear. "The man you work with. Don't deny it. If you confess, I may forgive you."

She saw a chance. "I . . . I confess."

"Say the rosary."

"The rosary?" A tear escaped, trickling down the side of her face. "I don't know the rosary. I'm Baptist. I—"

His lips were on hers. She twisted her head away and gasped for breath.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I had hoped you were the one but I was wrong. I have to keep looking. It's not too late, you know. Your friend, perhaps. Maybe you were just meant to lead me to her."

He took her left hand and stretched it out. He bound it to the wood with rope then placed a nail over the center of her palm.

"Oh, God, please, no—" Calleigh screamed as he brought the hammer down. He took her other hand and pried open her fist. Then he stretched it out and tied it down. Calleigh tried to pull it free. He placed a nail over her palm and raised the hammer.

* * *

Speed was beaming. He handed Horatio a piece of paper and smiled. "I got a hit. Stephen Reilly. Thirty-eight years old, a widower, runs a bookshop downtown."

"He has a record?"

"Two DUI's both in the last seven months. But get this, he dropped out of the seminary to get married."

"Where does he live?"

"Horatio!" Monica stuck her head round the door, breathless. "Adele just called. A 911 operator took a call from Calleigh. They managed to trace the call—"

"Where is she?"

Monica rattled an address that matched the one he held in his hands.

"What are we waiting for? Let's go!"

* * *

The house seemed empty. It was too quiet. Joe McBride, the SWAT leader, signaled one of his men to open the door. They poured in, Horatio, Speed and Monica behind the SWAT team. Monica and Horatio went into the dining room; both of them immediately grasped the meaning of the bread and the wine.

There was a scream.

Monica and Horatio ran in the direction of the sound, followed by Joe and Speed. Horatio kicked the basement door open. Monica was the first inside. The light of her torch revealed a man crouched over Calleigh, his arm raised. Monica fired. Stephen Reilly toppled to the side. Monica and Horatio rushed to Calleigh. Joe checked Stephen Reilly's pulse and held his hand over the wound.

"Mary . . ." The sound was a whisper.

Someone switched the light on. Monica felt her stomach turn: Calleigh's hand was nailed to the cross and she was horribly pale. Horatio held her other hand.

"I'm here, Cal. It's okay. I'm here." He stroked her face, his touch gentle, loving.

Calleigh looked past him at the shape in the corner. It came closer, closer, closer . . . She looked down on herself: Horatio bending over her, Monica looking at her hand. The shape wrapped itself around her, squeezing her, choking her. She was too tired to fight it. She closed her eyes as the world turned to ash around her.

* * *

Friday, April 9

Calleigh wants to stay in the darkness. It doesn't hurt here. She's afraid that if she wakes up, she will still be in the basement and he will still be standing over her. It is safer here.

Something is missing.

Something tugs at her left hand. She looks down, surprised to find that she is no longer alone. A small boy gently squeezes her hand and smiles.

"Hi."

She smiles back. The kid is cute. "Hi."

"I'm Luke."

"I'm . . ." She frowns. Surely this is something she should know.

"You have to go back," Luke says. "You aren't supposed to be here."

Calleigh shakes her head. "I'm scared."

"Don't be. He'll look after you." Luke squeezes her hand tighter and tighter until the pain is almost unbearable . . .

* * *

Horatio stood at the foot of Calleigh's hospital bed, Stephen Reilly's diary tucked under his arm. The doctor told him that Calleigh's mind had closed off to protect her. The doctor hadn't been able to say when Calleigh would wake up. Horatio pulled a chair closer to the bed, sat down and began to read.

Calleigh gasped. "Please . . ."

Horatio closed the book and leaned closer. He touched her arm. "Calleigh?"

Her eyes fluttered open. "Luke?"

"It's Horatio."

The ghost of a smile touched Calleigh's face before she shut her eyes and grimaced. "Hurts."

"Your hand? They had to operate. But you'll be okay, the doctors said you should regain full mobility . . ." He trailed off, realizing she was probably too drugged to understand properly. He kissed her forehead instead. "Just relax, Cal. I'm here. You're safe now."

"Him?"

"He's dead. Monica shot him."

"Okay." Calleigh's breathing evened out as she fell asleep. This time, there was no darkness tempting her away.

Monica spoke softly so as not to wake Calleigh. "There were paintings all over the house of Calleigh as Mary. He'd even changed the faces of all the statuettes so they looked like her."

Horatio held up the diary. "He was killing them so he could make himself worthy of her. They were his penance, his sacrifice. And he saw her with me and felt betrayed. She went from Mary to Mary Magdalene because we were becoming closer . . ."

"He would have killed her anyway when he realized she would never be what he wanted her to be."

"Do you still think he was possessed?"

Monica shrugged. "I don't think it matters anymore. He's dead, Calleigh's alive. Case closed."

Horatio glanced down at Calleigh's sleeping form. "I hope so. She asked for Luke when she woke up this morning."

Monica paled. "Luke? You're sure you heard correctly?"

"Do you know who she meant?"

"The only Luke I know died a long time ago." Monica shook her head; that was a road she didn't want to go down again. "Speed found the connection between Calleigh and Reilly. Eight months ago his wife and son were killed in a convenience store robbery gone wrong. Calleigh was the lead investigator on the case."

Horatio took her uninjured hand and brought it to his lips.

"You know, Reilly wasn't as clever as he thought he was. People were crucified through their wrists, not their palms," Monica said.

"It's probably harder to drive a nail through someone's wrist though."

"I suppose so. Anyway, I've got a flight to catch. It was good working with you, Horatio."

"Thank you, for everything. I'm still not completely sold on everything you said, but . . ." He shrugged. "Next time you're in Miami, give us a call."

Monica grinned. "So you and Calleigh are an 'us' now?"

"Ahh . . ."

She laughed. "You're good together. Remind me one day to tell you about my friends Mulder and Scully and what it took to get them together."

"It's complicated, Monica."

"Bull. You almost lost her once already. How many second chances do you think you're going to get?"

A slow smile bloomed on Horatio's face. "You know, for once I think your theory's right."

"Bye, Horatio." Monica hugged Horatio then touched Calleigh's shoulder. "Look after her, okay?"

"Of course."

At the door she turned back, smiling at what she saw. Horatio bent his head to Calleigh's, whispering something in her ear. Monica's smile faded at the thought of what could have been; it was time to go.

Unseen by anyone, a young boy left his spot in Calleigh's room and followed Monica out. He didn't dare leave her alone. It was his job to watch over her and keep her safe. If he wasn't careful, the darkness would get her like it had almost got Calleigh. He glanced around; even now, he could feel it watching, stretching out to reach her. Luke ran to catch up with Monica and slipped his hand in hers. She would be safe now.

* * *

Saturday, April 10

Calleigh sat up in bed, scowling down at her tray. In her opinion, there was nothing worse than hospital food. Not even the Jell-O appealed to her. She sighed and pushed the tray away. The sooner she got out of here, the better.

"Knock, knock." Horatio entered, one hand behind his back. Her mood lifted.

"Horatio!" She smiled. "Please say you're here to save me from the hell that is hospital catering?"

"What'll I get if I say yes?"

"Whatever you want."

He brought his hand out to reveal Chinese takeout. "We have a date to make up."

"I'm sorry about your birthday—"

"Shh. Don't be silly. It wasn't your fault. Besides, I got my birthday wish. I got you back."

She was unexpectedly teary. "Horatio . . . that's got to be the most romantic thing anyone's ever said to me."

He dropped a kiss on her lips. "It's the truth. I've been thinking . . . if you agree, obviously . . . that I'd like us to spend more time together, away from the office."

Her answering smile was all he needed to continue.

"Good. You asked the other day why I'd been so distracted . . . There's someone I'd like you to meet." He looked to the door. "Maddie, come in, sweetheart."

A tiny sprite of a girl entered, her head ducked. She stared at Calleigh with big eyes.

"Cal, this is my niece. Maddie, this is the woman I told you about."

"Your girlfriend?"

Horatio nodded. "My girlfriend."

Maddie grinned and she lost all shyness. She climbed up onto the bed, chattering away. "I'm glad Uncle Horatio has a girlfriend, and you're really pretty. You've got hair like my Barbie doll, can I brush it? Hey, how come there's a bandage on your hand? Uncle Horatio, what happened to her hand? Are you sick? Is that how come you're in hospital? I was in hospital once. I had my aspendix out and . . ."

Calleigh smiled at Horatio over Maddie's head.

"Hey, aren't you going to eat your Jell-O? It's green, that's my favorite . . ."

The end.

* * *

Notes: To Moo, Hgirl and Jessie, thank you so much for betaing. Much love.

I got my serial killer profile from Micki Pistorius' Strangers on the Street (a very informative read, for those who are interested in that kind of thing).

The song "Learning to Breathe" is by Switchfoot on the "A Walk to Remember" soundtrack. What do you mean you haven't heard it? Go. Now. Listen. ::grin::

And Caroline, thanks for the super-cool challenge that sparked this monster.

To those of you who made it this far, thanks for reading. Feedback lights up my life . . .


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